All things new
Despite my intention to make this Christmas “the best one yet,” unfortunately it wound up to be a bit of a dud… during the days leading up, we were all taken out by what I can only assume to be the Bubonic Plague. While that didn’t stop my little guy from tearing through his gifts with a smile, it did change the overall energy of the day. After the excitement of the morning wore off, my sweet Declan snuggled back onto the couch for more cartoons and rest, and I found myself facing a bizarre feeling… all I wanted to do was drink and eat.
Since I never really have wine in the house, it was popcorn, salted caramel ice cream, and frozen pizza to the rescue… followed up with pretzels, raiding the Christmas stockings, & anything else I could get my hands on. What in the world was going on? Although this behavior had a familiarity to it from my former life, long gone are the days of that kind of chaotic eating… it’s just not who I am anymore. I didn’t harp on it much (because a little overeating on Christmas never killed anyone) and instead I put myself to bed promptly after tucking my little guy in for the night.
But the following day that same restlessness continued, which I finally chalked up to just feeling stir crazy after nearly a week of having a sick kiddo & being under the weather myself. It wasn’t until that night – after Declan had gone back to his Dad’s, and after I had unplugged with some cardio at the gym – that it hit me. It wasn’t stir-craziness… it was mourning. And it sucked.
As I sat in my bed and finally gave myself what I actually needed (to feel my feelings and cry my tears), I faced the truth: the last few years have been hard… and I wasn’t done grieving.
Navigating heartbreak, coping with relentless guilt, battling regret and questioning very painful decisions that were made at the height of a pandemic… tolerating the financial stress that comes with operating a household on one income, functioning as a working single parent, being isolated from my family as a result of the distance that I myself created by choosing to settle down across the country… the lingering sadness that comes when I think of my own blissful childhood, and how I fall short in feeling as though I’ll never be able to give my son what I had as a kid.
It's no WONDER I felt driven to distract and numb myself. I was crushed by the fact that this hadn’t been the year I hoped for: the year we could turn a corner as a family, making new kinds of memories the three of us. Me, my “wasband,” and our beautiful son… I envisioned us laughing, enjoying each other despite the different dynamics, & finally getting Daddy (my “wasband”) to make his famous English Muffin pizzas that he hasn’t made since our divorce. Instead what we got was a whole lot of phlegm, and negotiating with candy canes in order to get Declan to take yet another dose of Motrin. Not exactly what I had in-mind for Christmas this year… disappointment is a bitch.
After crying all the tears and pinpointing what had actually been going on inside my brain, I felt better. Because despite my fumble with the frozen pizza and 987 Hershey kisses, I had eventually figured it out. And instead of running – instead of taking the “easy way” by turning to more food or alcohol (which is what prior versions of me likely would have done) – I was able to give myself what I actually needed. Although it didn’t feel like it at first, this was a victory, and more evidence of my continued evolution.
In looking forward to a New Year in 2024, I also give myself the chance to reflect on what has been good in 2023. And there sure has been plenty of good. Launching Better Way 360, finding a deeper meaning and purpose in helping others, seeing tangible progress in my clients, and knowing that even bigger and brighter things are on the horizon – it is with love and hope that I welcome all things new.
Cheers to progress and new beginnings, even if they don’t always look exactly how we expect them to.